


Stay with Me

by oxiosa



Series: Brarg Week 2018 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 15:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16746307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiosa/pseuds/oxiosa
Summary: Luciano understands what he’s trying to do, and it won’t work. He wants to say so, but can’t find strength left to talk - staying awake is turning out to be quite a challenge.





	Stay with Me

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamer; the characters used in this work belong to the community Latin Hetalia and their respective creators. More info about them in the following link > www.latin-hetalia.livejournal.com
> 
> Argentina: Martín Hernández  
> Brazil: Luciano Da Silva.

Luciano has lost count of how many hours he’s being laying on his back staring straight back at the sun.

It feels like ages, like a lifetime. But that can’t be right, he thinks. It must be all in his head. He must have been laying here, forgotten deep inside this forest for what? Minutes, maybe a couple of hours? Yes, that must be right. It certainly wouldn’t take months or years to die, would it?

He sighs, and closes his eyes for a moment. He’s cold and tired, but that _does_ makes sense. He’s lost a lot of blood.

He is gonna die here, like this, he thinks, and strangely enough feels something akin to relieve.

There are worst ways to die in this world.

“ _Shit_ ,” a familiar voice hisses.

Two hands push the rotten corpse weighing him down off Luciano, and shaky fingers push his hair out of his face and cradle his jaw. A shadow looms over him, shields him from the burning light. Luciano opens his eyes; the sun is gone and replaced by two green eyes staring down at him.

Even with his face distorted with sheer fear, Luciano decides Martín is the most beautiful sight he has ever seen in his life. The sun behind him frames him like a golden halo around his blonde head, reminds Luciano’s delirious mind of some sort of heavenly apparition. A good parting gift from this rotten world, and very fitting too.

“Luciano, are you ok?” Martín asks, caresses his cheek with shaky thumb. “ _Fuck_ -Can you hear me?”

Luciano closes his eyes for a moment and gathers himself - he’s not dead yet, and Martín is talking to him, so he should answers. He tries to talk, and has to swallow; his throat is dry and refuses to work.

“Yes...” he manages to croak out.

Martín presses his forehead against his, painfully close, and lets out a choked sigh.

“Did it bit you?” he demands tightly.

That’s the most important question, the one the world has come to revolve around. Luciano shakes his head slowly.

“No,” he breathes out.

Martín lets out a choked sound, and presses his lips against Luciano’s, hard enough to bruise.

“ _Goddammit_ , Luciano,” he hides his face against Luciano’s neck and moans something close to a sob.

He’s shaking, and Luciano doesn’t have it in him to raise a hand and comfort him. Martín takes a moment to get himself back together, before he cups Luciano’s face again and kisses his lips gently this time.

“Ok,” he says a little breathless. “It’s ok. You’re ok, Luciano, I’m right here…”

He kisses him yet again, and then he is gone. Martín checks his body with careful gentle hands, rummaging through his clothing to check his skin for injuries. Luciano should tell him he will find only one, at least point him where’s the problem, but he feels too tired to speak. It doesn’t matter anyways; he knows the moment Martín finally finds the bear trap closing around the bloody torn flesh of his ankle when he hears his loud cursing.

Luciano tries not to think much of what Martín sees down there.

He feels something pressing against his lips again, and it takes a couple of seconds for him to understand what Martín is asking. He opens his mouth for him, and Martín pushes something - leather? A belt, maybe? - between his teeth.

“Bite down on this,” he instructs. He adds then, hesitantly; “This may hurt.”

Luciano nods once, and even after the warning he is not ready for the shock of pain shooting from his leg when Martín pushes the trap’s jaws open and sets his ankle free from the sharp fangs. He screams, bits down on the leather on his mouth, and Martín is fast to rush back to him, to press a hand to his mouth and whispering fast urgent hushes as he pulls Luciano’s hair back from his face with tender fingers. Luciano pants heavily, sinks his fingers into Martín’s arm and twists away involuntary with energy he does not have.

Once Luciano has calmed enough, barely away from passing out from sheer pain, Martín talks again.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asks.

Luciano can barely open his _eyes_ , can barely think straight anymore. His lack of response seems to speak for him.

“Ok,” he hears Martín mumble to himself.

Luciano hisses, pain spiking up again, as Martín tries to move him, tries to pick him up and get him away, drag him to safety.

“I know, I know,” Martín hushes. “I need to get you out of here, Luciano, before they-”

He cuts himself, and halts. He freezes in place, tense and alert like a frighten deer caught in the headlights. Luciano groans, and opens his eyes in what seems forever. He can hear it too.

The low groaning and grunting.

They have found them. Heard them, or smelled, it doesn’t matter. There’s quite a lot of them, if Luciano had to guess by the sound of it. A horde of the undead, hungry for the blood and flesh of the living.

“Fuck,” Martín hisses. “Shit, we need to get the hell out of here, Luciano.”

“Leave me,” Luciano answers with sudden clarity that surprises even himself.

Martín remains quiet for a moment, before he spits more curses at him.

“I am _not_ leaving you,” he snaps back gritting his teeth with vicious anger.

“I can’t walk,” Luciano mumbles. “You can…”

 _You can outrun them on your own, but not if you have to carry me with you_ , he wants to say but words fail him. He is so tired, and talking is taking too much from him. He wishes Martín would simply understand.

“You won’t get far with me…” he musters to say, and closes his eyes with a defeated sigh.

There is no answer for a moment, and then he feels a couple of warm lips pressing gently against his. Martín’s shadow over his eyelids is gone, and the sun is back, burning and blinding red. Luciano thinks this might be it, one last kiss goodbye, that maybe Martín has decided to actually listen and do as he is told for once.

But of course Martín ignores him, of course Martín clings to stupid useless hope.

Luciano can hear him moving around his limp body, can follow him by the sound of the carpet of dry leaves under his boots. He hears the sound of fabric being torn apart, hears the already familiar sound of a knife digging and cutting into flesh. Martín’s hands are back on him, smears something cold and wet all over Luciano’s clothes, over his bare skin. Luciano recognises the smell of rotten flesh and blood, and for a moment he thinks he might have passed out of that.

The grunts are alarmingly close when he comes back to consciousness. Luciano twist his head, and manages to crack his eyes open just enough to see through his eyelashes as Martín sinks his arms elbow deep into the dead rotten carcass Luciano managed to kill what seems ages ago now and spread the flesh and blood all over himself. Luciano’s eyes close again against his will, and all he can do is lay as Martín carefully buries him into wet dirt and leaves. He takes special attention to Luciano’s injured ankle, bandages it over and over and over again before hiding it in foliage like the rest of Luciano.

Luciano understands what he’s trying to do, and it won’t work. They won't simply pass as a couple of rotten carcasses. He’s not bleeding anymore, but there’s a pool of _fresh_ blood around them. The dead will smell it, and they’ll come to it as if it called for them. He wants to say so, but can’t find strength left to talk. Staying awake is turning out to be quite a challenge.

Martín lies on top of him, shields him from the world with his body, and Luciano wishes he would have just left him here on his own and saved his life.

“Hang there with me for a moment,” Martín begs. “Won’t be long, ok? I’m taking you back, just hang a little longer. Please, stay with me.”

Luciano sighs, exhausted from pain. He passes out with Martín hugging him tightly, whispering pleas in his ear as the undead reach them, march and groan around them clueless of their presence for now.

**Author's Note:**

> ☑ Brarg Week - Day 3; Dystopia


End file.
